a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Jeff Saperstein

Hitchcock as a Boy

 

Even then, he suspected there was always something

to atone for. In the old tales,

the harpies would peck out the eyes

of those who had trespassed.

The night his father let the bobbies

lock him up, he could hear

a flapping through the walls.

At school, the other children used bright colors;

he preferred an inky sheen.

When the class recited the names of the monarchs,

he stared out the window,

plotting the pattern of their flight,

and at recess, when the others kicked a ball,

he took note of the ominous way they gathered,

heard the menace in their calls.

 

 

Originally from Brooklyn, New York, Jeff Saperstein has been teaching English at Radford University in southwestern Virginia since 1985. Some of his work has appeared in "The Deronda Review," "The Sow's Ear," "Ibbetson Street Press," and "Chantarelle's Notebook."

Copyright 2012  Chantarelle's Notebook